Friday, September 30, 2005
Is it wrong that I have a man crush on David Ortiz? That I want to spoon feed him mango salsa while Johnny Pesky cools him with gently waving palm fronds and Kelly the Ball Girl massages his gargantuan feet? Really. C'mon now. Is this dude for real? This is some next-level shit right here. We are witnessing greatness on a Yaz/Orr/Bird scale. Sit back and watch. And thank the heavens that he is ours, all ours. I admit it. Walking across the Mass Ave Bridge last night, listening to Joe and Jerry on WEEI, I nearly started to weep when Frank Catalanotto homered into the bullpen to make the score 4-1 in the fifth. First, because I hate Frank Catalanotto. But mostly, because it was at that moment that our playoff hopes seemed ready to die. I looked back across the river at Fenway's glowing lights, and thought of them dimming for a long, cold winter. For the third consecutive night, our starting pitcher was not doing the job we needed him to do. Matt Clement was flat, and it looked like Toronto's relentless line-up was poised to score many more runs. Meanwhile, the Yankees were romping in Baltimore and the Indians were on their way to shutout. We'd be entering this weekend's trumpeted series down two games in the East and one in the Wild Card hunt. To have it end like this -- to the Blue Jays! -- just hurt too much. I never count this team out. But, really, what have they shown in the last week or so that indicates they've got the kind of fight in them we used to take for granted? It looked bleak. We needed to do something. So we did. Clement got out of a hairy bases-loaded situation in the fifth, and then was pulled after the first batter of the sixth. Mike Myers came on to close out the inning after intentionally walking the bases and inducing a fly-out to center. In the bottom of the inning, Ortiz reached first thanks to a hideous misplay in the field. Scott Downs was pulled, and Manny Ramirez welcomed Jason Frazor by flicking his second pitch effortlessly into the Toronto pen. The guy making my sandwich flashed me a toothy grin. "Manny, man." Down by one. We can do this. I was home by now, watching on TV. Myers came out for the seventh, and got one out before being replaced by Jonathan Papelbon. Suddenly, I was calm. I was happy. I had a feeling this worm would turn. Ground-out. Double. Strikeout. He came back for the eighth. Ground-out. Line-out. Ground-out. Seven (7) pitches. He walked off the mound as if in a trance. (Or, as this guy puts it, "like he just ate a plateful of nails.) Then David Ortiz launched Vinnie Chulk's third pitch to deep left center to tie the game. Ho hum. What else is new? Papelbon came back out. for the top of the ninth. A ground-out. Then another. A double. A pop-out. In the ninth, we had to do something, and quick. An extra-innings game, win or lose, is no way to preface the biggest series of the year. Tony Graffanino didn't seem to get the memo, popping up Miguel Batista's first pitch. Johnny Damon (3 for 5 on the night) squeaked a single to right, and then stole second. Edgar Renteria walked on four pitches. Batista was frightened. And well he should be. He pitched to Ortiz: Fouled off. A ball low. Fouled off. A ball low and away. A ball low and away. A stinging single to left center. Damon sprinted, hair flying. And he crossed home plate. The field was a sea of red. And "Dirty Water" played. He is inhuman. He is carrying this team. And he is the most valuable player in the American League. And Jonathan Papelbon is to pitching what Big Papi is to hitting. And he's starting to remind me of this guy. (Apparently, so do they.) I'm giddy for the future, and so should you be. But for the moment, there are more immediate concerns. Like this. And there are concerns. Damon, Ortiz, and Ramirez do not an offense make. This lineup was tailor-made for Fenway Park. We've got to start hitting like it. And we've got to pitch better. Much, much better. Big Papi says so. David Wells's knee feels like it's been hacked by Jeff Gillooly. Curt Schilling is a huge question mark. (Maybe he should stop kissing Yankee ass and concentrate on that big three-ring binder of his.) And Papelbon pitched a lot last night. (Will Mike Stanton help? Suppose he can't hurt. Right?) But we can do this. ( We have before.) Here's how it shakes out. Let's go with option number nine. The most exciting weekend of baseball in a half century. Bring it on. In the mean time... Hey ladies! Need tickets for tonight's game?
Thursday, September 29, 2005
9/29/2005 10:34:00 AM by Mike Miliard | |
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Sox Blog had tickets to Monday night's game, and when it was called on account of rain, I was pretty bummed out. For one thing, it meant we'd have to squeeze in a doubleheader while the Yankees got to play on their normal schedule, putting us at an obvious disadvantage. For another, it meant I wouldn't be able to watch Curt Schilling pitch, the only guy on staff I'd yet to see in person this season. Furthermore, the shuffled rotations would scotch the much-ballyhooed Schilling/Big Unit match-up in the Fens on Saturday. Blech. As it turns out, it wasn't all bad. I took a half day yesterday -- as did an estimated 90 percent of the greater Boston workforce, to judge by the crowd -- and went to the park. Instead of a dark and stormy night, we got a gorgeous autumn day, crisp and clear, with bright sunlight a stiff breeze. If you ignored the slight chill, looking out on the glowing green field you could almost convince yourself it was a Saturday afternoon in July. But it's not July, it's late September. And we're locked in the tightest pennant race this town has seen in years and years. Tim Wakefield knows this. So he took the ball for Game One, knowing full well that he'd be doing the same again in three days' time. Then he did just what we needed him to do: pitch a crisp, quick, economical game, casting a spell for seven masterful innings, giving up just three measly hits and a single unearned run while striking out six baffled Blue Jays hitters (ol' friend Shea Hillenbrand was a couple 'em). The offense was hardly overpowering, but it was enough, and they got to it early. Johnny Damon led off with a single in the first inning, and suddenly-white-hot Edgar Renteria promptly doubled him over to third. David Ortiz grounded out to second, scoring Damon, and then Manny hit a ringing single right up the middle to score Renteria. That was it until the fifth, where a pair of doubles from Renteria (to left) and Ortiz (to right) put another one on the board, getting back the run the Jays had scored on Mirabelli's passed ball the previous half inning. By the eighth, it was bullpen time. Sure, it was just the first game of the day. But you use your best pitchers in the most crucial situations, right? Every game is a must-win. So out jogged Jonathan Papelbon, who led off the inning by walking Red Sox arch nemesis Greg Zaun. He got Frank Catalanotto swinging, but then allowed Alex Rios to single Zaun over to third. Vernon Wells strode to the plate. Deep breath here. After a foul, a strike swinging, and a ball, Wells popped up over to the first baseline -- and John Olerud barely made it over in time to make the catch. Papelbon failed to cover first, but luckily Zaun didn't run. Flailing Hillenbrand swung three times at three filthy pitches, and the inning was over. I like this kid more and more every day. Timlin in the ninth. But what if we need him tonight? He answered by closing out the inning with 11 pitches (two groundouts and a K), thanks in no small part to an incredible diving play by Alex Cora at second to end the game. Maybe we should have used Timlin in Game Two. Instead, after shaky, prideful Curt Schilling, left in the game two batters too long, allowed the tying run to score in the seventh, we got to see Mike Myers walk the only guy he faced. Then we got to see Chad Bradford, pitching to lefties like he shouldn't, get out of one jam and then into another. Then we got to see green Craig Hansen come in with one out and two men in scoring position and surrender the go-ahead run on a sac fly. Then we got to see Chad Harville walk Hillenbrand, who'd struck out SEVEN TIMES that day, on four pitches, then give up Eric Hinske's double to deep center, and then hit Reed Johnson with a pitch. Then we got to see Jeremi Gonzalez come into one run game -- and give up another run having thrown just one strike. Chad Harville and Jeremi Gonzalez! This is what we're forced to go with? Did Manny Delcarmen sleep with Tito's wife? Damon, Renteria, and Ortiz went down with a whimper in the ninth. Game over. And it hurt. It hurt because we shoulda had it. Because we'd driven Gustavo Chacin from the game after just three and two thirds, scoring five runs off ten hits. It hurt because we needed Schilling to come up big and he didn't. It hurt because our bullpen just wasn't up to the task. It hurt because we could be in first place right now, looking down on the Yankees and the Indians. Walking home from the afternoon game, I'd seen a dead blue jay on the sidewalk on Brookline Street in Cambridge. Really. I took it as an omen for the nightcap. I was wrong. We blew a golden opportunity. Lucky for us, so did everyone else. (Well, not these guys.) And, if it's any consolation, while Schilling was merely mediocre, Mike Mussina was positively gruesome (seven hits and five earned runs in an inning and two thirds, his shortest outing in a decade). They face each other on the final game of the season. And while our bullpen gave up two runs, theirs -- seven guys! -- gave up a dozen. Maybe them other birds ain't dead yet after all? May they do it again tonight. And, yeah, our pen got a workout yesterday, but so did theirs. (One rather important difference: theirs got the job done while ours did not.) Let's hope Bronson makes that all moot tonight. In the mean time, Curt? Johnny? READ THIS GUY'S LIPSWe're in the middle of a pennant race here. We don't need this crap. Yesterday, my colleague Mark Jurkowitz quoted Tony Soprano in his Media Log item on Schilling's sad-sack tale: "Whatever happened to Gary Cooper, the strong, silent type?" Indeed. Or guys like Johnny Pesky, who for 59 years has held his tongue. "He hasn't alibied. He hasn't complained. But he says quietly, " In my heart, I know I didn't hold the ball." Happy belated birthday to Mr. Red Sox. 86 years young. (Late breaking news: Curt is over it! Hooray! Still, the riddle of Dugout Deep Throat remains unsolved. Who is it? Take the poll!)
9/28/2005 12:59:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Monday, September 26, 2005
"And then, that hour the star rose up, the clearest, brightest star, that always heralds the newborn light of day, the deep-sea-going ship made landfall on the island... Ithaca, at last."
-Homer, The Odyssey
Our wandering days are over. Until at least October 3, that is. The final week is here, and the set-up doesn't get any better. This is why we watch baseball.
We got the job done down in Camden Yards, completing the three-game sweep with a combination of guts and guile, gaining a game on the competition in the mean time to grab a share of first place in the East. Upon our triumphant return to our beloved home, there is but one thing to do: slay the suitors. Keep winning.
We scored first Friday night, but things looked dire immediately after that. In the home half of the first, Bronson Arroyo looked like he might not make it out of the inning. A single, then a stolen base. A runner-advancing ground-out. A walk. An RBI single. Another RBI single. His command was terrible, and you could read it in his face. Lenny DiNardo warmed in the bullpen. Then, somehow, he turned it around, scattering just four hits and a run over the next six frames.
His teammates, meanwhile, took great advantage of a Miguel Tejada two-out throwing error -- maybe he was distracted? -- with Manny hustling (!) to first as Alex Cora scored, then Trot Nixon doubling in two immediately afterward.
In the seventh, Manny hammered one to deep to left center with Edgar Renteria (2-4 with a walk and three runs scored) on first, and that was all we'd need. Our much-maligned bullpen got the job done just fine: Mike Myers and Jonathan Papelbon combined for a hitless eighth, and Mike Timlin bounced back nicely from his implosion on Wednesday night, closing out the ninth with just a harmless single.
Two runs in the first on Saturday afternoon (one on Manny's sac fly, another thanks to Daniel Cabrera's wild pitch) was all the scoring we'd see for a while. It was a veritable pitchers duel for five frames, and a more ungainly one seldom will you see. Matt Clement didn't look strong, walking a season-high six batters, but somehow managed to get out of inning after inning without a run scoring.
Then he was relieved after the sixth by Spicoli-esque wunderkind Craig Hansen. And for the first batter, at least his scorching stuff looked untouchable again. High heat. A strike swinging, a strike looking, a strike swinging. Siddown, Matos!
Then, trouble. A fouled-off strike. A ball wide. Then Bernie Castro reached, legging out a bouncing infield single. "There goes the no-hit career," I said.
Next batter, after two more balls and a foul, Melvin Mora homered to deep left, a shot that would have been caught in many other parks, and would've been a wall ball in Fenway. Welcome to the bigs, Craig. The game is tied. Your new ERA is 10.80. Congrats!
In a way, I'm glad it happened. Now he knows what it's like to give up a big hit in a big game. And something tells me he won't let it affect him the way others would. This was not a "Cla Meredith moment" He seems so affectless up there on the mound, cool as the proverbial cucumber -- and willing to learn from his mistakes. I expect to see him pitching the seventh again soon. Let's just get that slider back.
But the story of the night was Renteria. The poor guy's been having a rough time of it lately, but slowly, quietly, he's been cleaning up his play on the field and starting to hit again. Man-mountain closer BJ Ryan was on the mound with the score tied. "A lot of teams lose that game," said Tito. "We're not a lot of teams." No indeed. With one out, Trot Nixon singled. Tony Graffanino singled. Johnny Damon walked on four pitches.
Then Renteria lobbed a broken bat single into shallow left, scoring Trot and pinch-runner Adam Stern (who is officially done for the year).
Papelbon pitched a one-hit eighth on his way to a W, but Timlin made it scary in the ninth: he allowed an RBI double with two outs, and Javy Lopez's game-ending fly-out was a little to deep to deep right for comfort. But a win is a win.
Ordinarily, when a team scores five runs with two outs in the first inning, a win looks all but assured. But there was a short time on Sunday where I wasn't so convinced. Manny homered off hapless John Maine -- his 431st, tying him with Mr. Oriole, Cal Ripken -- after David Ortiz had walked for the first of three times on the day. Then hot-hitting Trot singled. Jason Varitek walked. John Olerud singled to left, scoring them both (!) and advancing to second before Billy Mueller doubled to right to drive him home. Things were looking good.
Then the big man took the mound. With one down, Melvin Mora and Miggy Tejada homered back to back (the latter attempting to offer penance for his poor fielding), and suddenly that lead wasn't so comfortable.
His knee is gimpy, but he's a gamer. He allowed just four hits over the next six innings, leaving with two down in the seventh because hateful and hated Eric Byrnes called time at the last possible second, while Boomer was already in his windup, ending in a painfully awkward aborted pitch. "We're lucky Wells didn't blow out his shoulder," said one fan on SoSH. "Byrnes is lucky Wells didn't take his head off." (Tek probably wouldn't mind giving him a shove, too.)
Wells's quality start was augmented by our offense, which looks to have returned with a vengeance. If Johnny Damon's swing is hampered by his ailing left arm, he doesn't show it; he launched a two-run homer in the fifth. Renteria went 2 for 5. Bill Mueller went 3 for 4 with two ribbies, nudging his average above .300 again. Trot got two hits too. In fact, the only starter who didn't hit was Ortiz, who was walked three times.
The 9-2 lead was enough the RBI single Chad Bradford surrendered immediately upon relieving Wells hardly mattered (he followed it with a perfect eighth inning) before being relieved himself by the other Chad, who turned in a perfect inning of his own.
By the end, it was almost like they weren't trying. Please don't let that be the case. Jay Gibbons reportedly said today that the O's are "counting down the hours" until their season ends. C'mon. We know it's been a rough year. A really, really, really, really, really rough year. But have a little pride, OK? We need you to play these dudes like you mean it. They're starting to get that old swagger back. Deflate them.
In other news... Who knew? Being a Sox fan is good for your health.
And the founder of "Red Sox Nation" speaks. Citizens, get rooting. It's the final week, and "we need to change their biochemistry and activate their water molecules like we did last year."
We're home again. The crucial seven-game series starts tonight. Tito will lead us. Onward.
9/26/2005 1:47:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Friday, September 23, 2005
As it turns out, the Boston Red Sox didn't actually win the World Series last year. Apparently, we didn't in fact win eight in a row to complete the greatest comeback in baseball's long history. Instead "they digitally edited games from earlier in the year to make it look like they were new games." What a hoax! And, suddenly, the sad happenings of the past week make a lot more sense. But that doesn't mean we can't win it all this year. 87 years is too long to wait. We're down by a game with 10 left. The first step is to slay seven birds. Three of these and four of these. Start tonight.
9/23/2005 3:02:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Thursday, September 22, 2005
See you next spring, Keith. But who will eat up innings in the blowouts now?
9/22/2005 3:30:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
I've decided that I need this day off as much as this bruised and battered team does. A night without biting my nails to the quick, without sweating clench-fisted through quickened pulse and tightened chest and heightened blood pressure, without finally crying into my beer before heading to a sleepless night in bed? Yeah, that will probably do me some good. (At least last night I didn't " feel my soul being sucked from my body....") They did it again. Every time I think they've gotten the "worst loss of the season" out of the way, they prove me wrong. In an almost empty Baseball Tavern on Boylston Street last night, George Thorogood blared "Bad to the Bone." A gaggle of sweaty, Bud-clutching softball players watched with concern as heretofore rock-solid Tim Wakefield gave up a single to center, then unleashed a wild pitch, then hit a batter, then induced a double play before allowing a run-scoring single to cut our two-run lead to one. Then they watched incredulously as Mike Timlin jogged from the bullpen and stepped to the mound with a man on second and two outs. As he gave up a single to right. And a two-run triple to deep center. And an RBI double to deep left. And an RBI single to center. And took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. We all knew Timlin would allow that inherited runner to score. Heck, the Sisters at St. Margaret's in Roxbury knew Mike Timlin would allow that inherited runner to score. But I don't think any of us suspected he'd allow three more guys to cross the plate besides. Why not Hansen or Papelbon? Why not Myers or Bradford? "In the case of the first two, Francona hopes to preserve their futures," writes Tony Mazz. "In the case of the latter pair, he is tainted by their recent past." I'm inclined to think Craig Hansen, who throws 97 miles an hour, could handle one out in the eighth. And that Jonathan Papelbon could reasonably be expected to record a single scoreless inning against the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Or that, at least, Timlin could be brought on fresh for the ninth. Apparently our manager isn't. So, in the dugout, David Ortiz and Johnny Damon gazed with long faces. Young Hanley Ramirez looked on blankly, perplexed by this strange big-league world where the same team that puts up a 15-2 thrashing one night can meekly watch a 4-2 win turn to a 7-4 loss, just like that, the next. Shortly afterward, Ortiz grounded out, Manny Ramirez struck out, and John Olerud flied out to center. Shortly after that, ESPN flashed this sickening graphic: AL EAST Yankees -- Red Sox 1/2 Then this one: WILD CARD Indians -- Red Sox 1 Shortly after that, the phone behind the bar rang loudly. "Ah shit," the beefy barkeep muttered, leaning over to show me the glowing caller ID. "Look at this. The Yankee Tavern, right outside the Stadium. They call us every time." He put the phone to his ear. "What. What? What? Just say it...... Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Yeah. Yeah." Then he hung up. Let's not panic. We've lost it and regained it before. But now we have just 10 more games to play. In the previous 10 games, we've gone 5 and 5 while they've gone 9 and 1. Rest up, boys. In the mean time, perhaps some perspective is in order.
9/22/2005 12:03:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
I called it yesterday. "It's always darkest just before the dawn." I wrote that. Right here. And I was right. Right? David Ortiz: 4 for 5 (home run, home run, single, single). Four RBI. Four runs scored. Manny Ramirez: 4 for 4 (home run, single, single, home run). Three RBI. Three runs scored. Trot Nixon: 4 for 6 (home run, singe, triple, single). Three RBI. Four runs scored. Jason Varitek: 4 for 5 (single, single, single, single). Two RBI. Hitters nos. three through six: 16 for 20 with five home runs and a triple. Read that again. (Bill Mueller, that bum, just went 2 for 4 with a walk, and Alex Cora only had two ribbies. Booo!!!) After Monday night's listless loss, in which Ortiz homered in the ninth to bring his team just one run short of a comeback win, I saw a photoshopped cartoon that showed Big Papi, his fist in a victory pump, a glare in his eyes, trailing a banner behind him: EVERYONE SUCKS BUT ME. Last night, Manny and Trot and Tek had something to say about that. But his numbers on the night were still the best on the team. Going back to the night before, the guy homered in three straight at bats. It's his world. We just live in it. Watching, slack-jawed. Even measured Gordon Edes doesn't mince words: "Surely, seeing George Herman Ruth in his prime could not have been much different than watching David Americo Arias Ortiz perform down the stretch in 2005." Enjoy this, folks. This is one for the ages. Curt Schilling, meanwhile? Seven strong with two runs off six hits and a walk. Seven Ks. Manny Delcarmen and Lenny DiNardo recorded a perfect inning each, with three strikeouts and two, respectively. Where the hell have these guys been? Can they stick around for, say, another 23 games? We really needed that. I have just one request. Do it again. Start tonight. Etc.See David Laurila's excellent interview with Joe Sheehan of Baseball Prospectus over at Royal Rooters. He's got some good insight and predictions re: Youkilis, Manny and Ortiz, Dustin Pedroia, Hanley Ramirez, and more. Prospectus stathead Steve Goldman is the author of the forthcoming Mind Game: How the Boston Red Sox Got Smart, Won a World Series, and Created a New Blueprint for Winning, which I started leafing through last night. It's terrific so far: the BP team's crystalline statistical analysis offers some surprising insights into last year's squad. And, of course, it all brings back a ton of great memories from last October. Let's make more.
9/21/2005 11:07:00 AM by Mike Miliard | |
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Let's take a gander at what each of the Boston Red Sox starting nine contributed to the stomach-churning 8-7 loss in Tampa Bay last night. CF Johnny Damon ($8,250,000). Went 2 for 5 (single, double) with two runs scored. Dropped a ball in centerfield he should've caught. SS Edgar Renteria ($8,000,000). Went 1 for 4 (single) with one RBI on a sacrifice fly. Negated offensive contributions by also committing major-league-worst 29th error, also fumbling another play (ruled a single) that allowed a run to score. DH David Ortiz ($5,250,000). Went 2 for 4 (double, homer) with a sac fly and four RBI. LF Manny Ramirez ($19,806,820) Went 0 for 5, striking out twice. C Jason Varitek ($8,000,000) Went 0 for 2, with two walks. 1B Kevin Millar ($3,500,000). Went 0 for 3 with a walk and a run scored; left four men on base. 3B Bill Mueller ($2,500,000) Went 1 for 3 with a walk and a run scored. RF Adam Hyzdu ($375,000). Late fill-in for ailing Trot Nixon ($7,500,000). Went 2 for 3 (both singles.) 2B Tony Graffanino ($1,100,000). Went 1 for 1 (later scoring) before leaving the game after the third with a strained left groin muscle. He was replaced by Alex Cora ($1,300,000) who went 2 for 3 (single, triple), driving in two. And then there's this guy: SP David Wells ($4,075,000). Lasted just two and two thirds innings, allowing ten hits and four runs (all earned). Had no curve whatsoever. Forgot that it's the pitcher's job to cover first base. The bullpen? No great shakes neither. Isn't bringing Chard Harville in the second inning rather defeatist? Papelbon is terrific, but we knew they'd score on him sometime. And Chad Bradford should not be throwing to lefties like Carl Crawford. One single, solitary bright spot: Craig Hansen. As hoped, the kid was electric, throwing a perfect 1-2-3 with a pair of strikeouts, his stuff hitting 95, 96, 97 mph. Still, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Everything else seems to be falling apart. Trot's out sick, being pumped with two bags of IV fluid. Damon has no left arm. Youk's got a broken finger, and could be out for a while. ( Is Hanley the answer? Doubtful.) Tek is out of gas. Manny looks lost. Rentererror is a wreck. (If he's hurt, he should say so.) And now Graffanino is down indefinitely, meaning we can't spell hot-hitting Cora in E-dgar's place. Playoffs? Seems like we'll be lucky to win a series against a team that's 25 games out. But there's fight in this team! Never count us out! We could come roaring back at any time! And we almost did last night. Ortiz went deep with two outs in the ninth to bring us within one. Not enough. If Renteria coulda just gotten on base somehow we coulda tied it. But it's much easier to ground out to third. Then Manny struck out. We owe Big Papi an apology. This is a team in big, big trouble. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. But have no fear. The Sox are "not in panic mode ... what we don't do is get negative. We believe in each other... pick each other up" "We're fine," says Millar. Uh, no you're not. They won. Again. We're tied with them in the loss column. They've won 8 of their last ten while we've gone five and five. They play well against the Jays and the Orioles, we don't really. Concerned? Of course. Counting them out? No way. After all, it's always darkest just before the dawn. Right? Right? Right?
9/20/2005 11:23:00 AM by Mike Miliard | |
Monday, September 19, 2005
"If the A's were playing the Pats, they would be tied," wrote some wag on the Sons of Sam Horn game thread yesterday afternoon as the score stood at 7-0 and Matt Clement skulked from the mound after just an inning and a third. It would get worse. Clement had less than nothing yesterday. Just awful. A single to left. A single to left. A runner-advancing wild pitch. A ground rule double to right. A single to right. A single to right. Finally, an out came, but on a run-scoring fielders choice. 4-0 after one. In the second, another double, a run-scoring single, and then Eric Chavez's two-run homer bumped Oakland's lead to a touchdown. So long, Matty. Remember when you were the " ace of the staff"? Those were some good old days. In the fifth, with Jeremi Gonzalez on the mound, a ground rule double and a homer to deep left made it 9-0. A single, a walk, and another homer from Chavez made it an even dozen. Not to put too fine a point on it, another SoSHer had it right: "The team we root for sucks." With that, the game was Foulke-proof. Of course, he picked that day to toss two scoreless innings. (A good sign, at least. In fact, the whole bullpen kept the A's scoreless for the rest of the game. With Craig Hansen on the way, could it be that the pen is suddenly the least of our problems?) Clement's spectacular implosion was so hard to take because the staff as a whole has been solid of late, with Bronson Arroyo (7 IP, 3 H, 1 ER), Tim Wakefield (9 IP, 7 H, 2 ER), and David Wells (7 IP, 7 H, 3 ER) all turning in fine performances their last starts. Just as disconcerting is this team's sudden inability to put bat on ball. Bill Mueller saved face (a little) by homering in the sixth, but the our side was scoreless until then. We cobbled together a couple runs in the seventh -- props to bench guys like Roberto Petagine and Alejandro Machado, who notched his first major league hit -- but it was much too little, way too late. Manny's towering moon shoot on Saturday night -- and the invaluable contributions of this guy here -- notwithstanding, our lineup has been disturbingly listless of late, Jason Varitek and Edgar Renteria being the two most egregious offenders. Even our two wins against Oakland were low-scoring games, with one win coming only thanks to Manny getting plunked with the bases loaded. Yeah, pitching wins championships. But we've gotta start hitting again. We just gotta. Hopefully those mediocreTampaBaystarters with be just the restorative we need. (But, whatever happens with this season, however much that last series ends up meaning, this is not 1978. If anything, without Schilling, Foulke, or a reliable bullpen, we're overachieving -- not blowing a 14-and-a-half-game lead.) Tough break for Youk, by the way. Heal quick. You too, Wade; see you in the spring. And let's pray that Ghost of Butch Hobson is wrong about Ortiz. In the mean time, perhaps we should remind ourselves that EVERY team has problems, as the hilarious motivational posters here and here show. Let's hope that, when all is said and done, "cockiness" is the worst of our worries.
9/19/2005 12:53:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Thursday, September 15, 2005
The headlines and story ledes are starting to talk about him like he's the front man for a rock band: "David Ortiz and the Red Sox..." He did it again. I'm fast running out of superlatives for the guy. Clutch? Goes without saying. Superhuman? A bit overused. So I cracked the thesaurus: Stupendous. Wondrous. Awesome. Astounding. Empyreal. Sublime. Hair-raising. Heart-stirring. Spine-tingling. Prodigious. Fantasmo. Far-out. It's a start. Give. This. Man. An. Award. Lest we forget, the other David got the job done too (7 IP, 7 H, 3 R, 3 ER, 2 BB, 1 K). All without his curve. And stop the presses! The pen was near-perfect. We'll need 'em to be that way again. And again. Tony? A tiger. Three for four with a pair of RBIs and two runs scored. A triple shy of the cycle. He's a helluva leadoff hitter. But so is this guy. Gabe, we hardly knew ye. You can deal with this. We all looking forward to saying Welcome Back again next year. Big series this weekend. Stay away, rain. Hope you're rested, Rent. Come up big, Curt.
9/15/2005 11:32:00 AM by Mike Miliard | |
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
For those keeping score: HEROES: David "Big Papi" Ortiz. Jonathan "Big Pap" Papelbon.GOAT: Terry "Maybe Grady Had Some Good Ideas After All" Francona.Thank the maker that The Greatest Clutch Hitter in the History of the Boston Red Sox came through again in the 11th. If he hadn't, it's safe to say that Sox Blog's apartment would be a heap of smoldering ruins right now. We were cruising. A 5-0 lead in the seventh against a team that's given us fits. A game we needed to win, a game were gonna win. But Bronson Arroyo, who'd pitched a great game so far, motoring through six innings while giving up just four hits, ran out of gas fast in the seventh. A walk ... a long single ... another walk. And just like that, the bases were loaded with no outs. I suppose a case can be made that the bullpen shouldn't have started warming with the first walk. One can almost argue that the single wasn't enough incentive to start thinking about pulling him. Almost. But not really. As it was, it wasn't until the there were three men on that Arroyo finally skulked off the mound. At this point, one would think about getting a strikeout guy in there. A power pitcher. Try to get a guy down swinging, then maybe hope for a double play. But no. Keith Foulke. A guy who wasn't seen fit to bring in fresh to nail down a 9-2 blowout on Saturday. A guy who's just coming off knee surgery and some none-too-impressive rehab stints (even if he's been scoreless in three innings since his return from the DL). A guy who relies on pinpoint positioning of his mid-80s stuff, who depends heavily on getting fly ball outs. He's brought into the most pressure-packed situation imaginable, and asked to go to work. So he does. And immediately gives up a run-scoring single. He gets an out on the next batter -- but on a sac fly to right that scores another run. He probably would have been fine brought into a bases-empty situation. But here he is, getting one out at the expense of two runs. And when he finally gets another, on a swinging K? Tito rewards him by pulling him for Mike Timlin. A real confidence-booster. Why? Because Vernon Wells is just 2 for 14 against Timlin. But he's also just 1 for 9 against Foulke. No matter, Timlin (for now at least) is our "closer." And our best pitcher. Sabermetricians might agree, but Sox Blog, in this instance at least, does not. Timlin is infamous for allowing inherited runners to score. Little old ladies know that. And one of Wells's two hits off Timlin was a home run. In Toronto. So there he was, standing on the mound in disgust as Wells hammered a three-run job on the third pitch to evaporate the lead. Just. Like. That. We'd screwed with Foulke's confidence, and brought Timlin early in a game that might well go into extra innings. Brilliant. He returned for a one-hit eighth. Fine. Then young Papelbon took the reigns for the ninth (foul-out, strikeout, ground-out). And the tenth (line-out, fly-out, walk, pop-out). And the eleventh (ground-out, ground-out, pop-out). It was just before that final frame that David Ortiz took it upon himself to launch Pete Walker's pitch deep to right. It was his second homer run of the night (his first was a 427-footer off Ted Lilly in the fourth). What else can be said? He is truly a monster, and we're lucky to have him. Papelbon too. He dominated for three no-hit innings, barely batting an eye. But he didn't have to. A quicker hook with Arroyo and/or some smarter insertions in the seventh may well have prevented the kid from having to go three. "The Sox are leery of putting a greater workload on Papelbon, who already has 130 innings this season," Gordon Edes wrote on August 29. He's one hell of a pitcher and we may need him later. We shouldn't have to burn him up against the Blue Jays. Water under the bridge. A win is a win. But please. Closer by committee is so 2003. Etc.GOOD: David Ortiz became only the second player in Red Sox history to record two 40-homer seasons in a row. ( This guy is the other one, back in 1969/1970.) And, with eight, Big Papi's second only to Jimmy Foxx in multi-homer games on a season. (Double X had 10 in 1938.) BAD: Johnny Damon plays through a lot, but might not be able to play through this. Please, please, please let me be wrong. GOOD: Manny homered again for the second time in three games, a no-doubt 440-foot rocket. (A straight-up trade for Beltran? Uh, no thanks.) BAD: The exchange rate on Mannys could be better when it comes to getting past the velvet ropes north of the border. Meanwhile, north of our border... Go Sea Dogs! Just let us have this guy when you're done.
9/13/2005 1:10:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Monday, September 12, 2005
It's been said before, but it bears repating: baseball is a funny game. Yeah, we lost two of three this weekend and instead of leaving the Bronx five up, our lead in the East has shrunk to three games. But this Red Sox/Yankees series served to remind me once again (as if I needed it) why I am a baseball fan. It had everything: sloppy play and ruthless efficiency, blown leads and blowouts, heatseeking fastballs and fluttering knucklers, good guys and jerks, foul balls and fair. It was an object lesson why this is the best sport around. OK, Friday night was a drag. We were in the Bronx in September with a lead in the East. For the first time in a decade. We were hitting Aaron Small. We had a 3-1 lead in the middle of the second. But we blew it. Dale Sveum struck again. Four errors, tying our season high. (Graffanino, throw; Damon, catch; Renteria, catch; Varitek, throw.) That didn't help. Despite multi-hit games from Damon, Renteria, and Bill Mueller, we could only muster four runs. And the David Wells who so dazzled in his nine-inning victory just last Sunday was nowhere to be seen. Six runs on nine hits and a walk in just five and two thirds innings pitched. Isn't he supposed to relish being on the mound in Yankee Stadium? Luckily, Saturday was much, much easier to stomach. Let me be the first to eat crow: I'd predicted this one as the one almost-sure-thing loss of the series. Schilling had been shaky. Shawn Chacon had been sharp. It just stood to reason. But was wrong. It was not Aaron Small who turned back into a pumpkin; it was Chacon: five runs off six hits in just three-plus innings pitched. When a team is on their third pitcher before an out has been recorded in the fourth, it's just not their day. It was ours. The Curt Schilling we knew and loved, the one we need, had finally arrived. On the mound in Stade Fasciste for the first time since that storybook start in Game 6 of last year's ALCS, he was dominant, scattering eight hits and two runs over eight innings. (Including homer to Jason Giambi, whose status as Public Enemy # 1 in Boston would be cemented 24 hours later.) It didn't hurt that our offense clicked, either. Graffanino was 3 for 5, and Ramirez, Ortiz, Nixon, Olerud, Mueller, and Kapler each got a couple hits (including homers from Manny -- his first in 62 at-bats -- and Olderdude). Gabe even had to apologize for stealing a base. BFD. Why was Keith Foulke not brought in to finish the game, given some work in a blowout to boost his confidence? Who knows. But who cares. It's hard to cavil with a win like that. The showdown on Sunday was a piece of work. Two pieces of work, in fact. Wake and the Big Unit went mano-a-mano, and each dominated -- the only difference being a cheap-ass home run by a known steroids user. Infuriating. But what a game. Randy Johnson, the guy who can't beat the Devil Rays, was filthy. Firing fastballs at up to 99 mph, slinging sliders that had us flailing, he was, as they say, on his game. I kept hoping an inning like this would come along, but alas t'was not to be. (Fine. But can he do it again?) His on-the-mound antics alone were worth the price of admission: the fist pumps and flailing, the screaming, the stare downs. Really, buddy. Act like you've been there before. "He's trying to earn his entire salary for this season by winning one game," wrote a poster on Sons of Sam Horn. "It'd be funny if it weren't so pathetic." Wakefield was not to be outdone. His knuckleball was the best you'll ever see it: rotating not a whit, but dancing and bobbing and weaving right into the zone. The slo-mo shots were breathtaking. "Comeback Kid" Giambi's short homer on a curveball excepted, he was utterly effective. Twelve (12) strikeouts, his career high. Twelve. A dozen. Three hits in eight innings. He did not deserve to be tagged with a loss. But he was. Why? Because things just didn't go our way. When we pinch hit ailing Ortiz (to thunderous boos) in the eighth, they brought on the best closer in the game to face him. Big Papi fought him off -- ball, ball, strike swinging, ball, foul, foul -- before taking his base. Then Damon did the same: strike looking, ball, ball, foul, foul, ball, foul, foul, foul, before grounding out to right. Of course, one of those fouls would have tied the game if it had fallen just a smidgen or a skosh to the left. And in the ninth, Edgar Renteria would have led off with a single if his laser had been just a tiny bit higher than Mariano Rivera's outstretched glove. A game of inches indeed. But a great game. Even though we lost. Even though it trimmed our lead and gave them a jolt of undeserved confidence. Any sport that allows you to see two utterly different athletes dominate so completely, that allows there to be such heart-stopping drama in the late stages, is a great one. And we are a great team. Wake looks locked in, Schill's back in business. We've got a three game lead with 20 to play. We're in a good spot. Like the Manny said: "You make your own destination." Onward.
9/12/2005 2:08:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Friday, September 09, 2005
I thought we were supposed to be able to hit in this park? Sadly, Sox Blog's David "Florida Evans" Ortiz t-shirt suffered its first-ever loss at the Fens last night, ending its unbeaten streak at a dozen or so games. It was a nice run ... now it can finally be washed. (Kidding!) Credit where credit's due: Paul Byrd spun a gem, scattering four hits and a couple walks over seven innings and surrendering nary a run. Thing is, Matt Clement was none too shabby himself. He was perfect through three, gave up a couple hits and a run in the fourth, and only started to falter in the seventh, giving up a pair of runs before being relieved by Chad Bradford. Bradford combined with Mike Myers, Jonathan Papelbon, and KKeith Foulke (2 Ks, but also a hit and a walk) to keep the Angels off the board, but the damage had been done. It's our own fault. We had the bases loaded twice over the last two frames, but could not plate a single, stupid, measly, godforsaken run. In the eighth after a double from Kevin Millar and a walk to Bill Mueller, Byrd was pulled for Scott Shields, the same guy who'd surrendered David Ortiz's towering walk-off two nights prior. And from the dugout ambled Manny Ramirez to pinch hit. He's been ice-cold lately, but the place exploded nonetheless. Here was where the worm would turn. It was inevitable. Well, no. He struck out looking. No matter. Johnny Damon walked, loading the bases. Here it was: there was only one out ... how could we not score? Well, it's rather difficult to put balls into play when the bat is resting comfortably on the batter's shoulder. So it was that first Edgar Renteria then David Ortiz were both called out in quick succession. Three strikeouts. All taking. Please pass the smelling salts. (At least Big Papi is a big spender with a big heart. Oh yeah, most of the time he's a big hitter too.) By that point, only the highlights of the goings on in Foxboro, beamed from the Jumbotron, provided any levity. "Face it, Mike," she said. "We're losing this game. We won't be having another opportunity like that." As it happened, that was only half right. In the ninth, Frankie Rodriguez came on to close. But K-Rod was shaky. John Olerud struck out (at least he was swinging). Trot Nixon -- whose amazing catch in the second set up the blown call that incited Mike Scioscia to get tossed for the second straight game -- singled to center before advancing to second on a wild pitch. Jason Varitek walked. Millar struck out swinging, but Bill Mueller walked again to load 'em up with two outs. Now was the time. Another walk-off win to complete the sweep. How else could it be? And who was the man who'd send us to the Bronx five games up in the East with one mighty swing of his bat? Why, Roberto Petagine, pinch-hitting for hot-swinging Alex Cora. Roberto Petagine, who hadn't appeared in a game since August 29. Roberto Petagine, whose wife is 57 years old. Roberto Petagine, who went down on three consecutive pitches: Looking. Swinging. Swinging. Ballgame. Coulda been worse. The Yankees lost again to the all-powerful Devil Rays, and we head to Stade Fasciste tonight secure in the knowledge that, if worse comes to worse, we will still decamp clinging to a one-game lead. But howsabout, just to be safe, we leave with a seven-game lead instead? ( Jim Caple doesn't care. Do we care that he doesn't care?) Pitch well. Hit well. Field well. Win. Make Billy Crystal cry again.
9/9/2005 12:58:00 PM by Mike Miliard | |
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Starting pitching? Yeah, we got that. Two complete-game Ws in three days: Wells on Sunday and Wakefield last night. Wake's impressive line: 9 IP 8 H 2 R 2 ER 3 BB 7 K I HR Bullpen? Who needs a bullpen with starts like these? (Keep it up. Keith Foulke might not always be that good, and Mike Timlin is a strong guy, but he's not superhuman.) Defense? Never mind the three errors in Sunday's game. Last night was rock-solid. A diving catch by Bill Mueller. A slapstick-like rundown. A poetic throw-out at second. A beautiful double play. Another outfield assist from Manny. Ho hum. Hitting? Who needs a lineup when you've got David Ortiz? Two days after Labor Day, autumn is already here. It only seems like the guy does this every night. Sox Blog was surprised to learn that last night's authoritative game-winning blast was "only" the sixth walk-off of Big Papi's career -- including the one in Game 3 of the 2004 ALDS against these very Angels, and the historic homer that kept us alive in Game 4 of the ALCS. Simply put: He knows how to hit a baseball. Anywhere. And far. He's been here less than three seasons, and they've already got a plaque done up for him: DAVID ORTIZ # 34: THE GREATEST CLUTCH HITTER IN THE HISTORY OF THE BOSTON RED SOX. I defy anyone to contend otherwise. ( Sabermetricians, I'm looking at you.) Not to be ignored, the amazingly regenerative Johnny Damon was back, and he proceeded immediately to go 3 for 5 on his return. A great win, about as good as they come these days. Thank you, sir, may I have another? Well timed, too, considering that the Yankees were simultaneously losing one that's about as bad as they come. Blowing a three run lead. The winning run scoring in the ninth. On an error. With Mariano Rivera on the mound. To the Devil Rays. Again. For the 10th time in 14 games. Schadenfreude is so unseemly. But with MFY fans already scheming about their postseason rotation, one has to indulge a little. Tonight, it's a rematch of our August 20th loss in Los Angeles, Anaheim. Let's have Bronson pitch as well as he did then, but howsabout we hit this time?
9/7/2005 11:47:00 AM by Mike Miliard | |
Friday, September 02, 2005
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